He was not sure how he knew but he could no longer deny that it was his time to die. It may have been when he was gazing at the stars the night before and while taking in the splendor of the universe, he has suddenly felt awash with melancholy. In that moment he has realized that he would never get another night to admire the simple elegance of stars in the vast evening sky. It may have been that morning when he had been surrounded by his bedraggled family, basking in the glow of their love as they fought over bacon and toast. In that moment he must have realized that he would never enjoy their laughing smiles as if they were his own. In that moment he knew that they would soon belong to someone else.
It would have been easy to break down in front of them, to hold onto them in spite of his destiny, in spite of the plans fate has for him. He could have spent his final moments with them crying and begging to be saved, but that was not how he wanted to be remembered. It was hard for him to admit, because it was a selfish wish, but he wanted to be remembered as strong and courageous enough to face his fate; no matter how much he wanted to live. So, instead of breaking down, he made sure that today would be the day that his family and friends remembered him. In not so many words he told his mother that he loved her and he told his father how much of an influence he had been; even though he would never realize just how true those words would become in the coming day.
His father had taught him that courage was knowing when to fight, when to give up, when to be afraid, and when those fears should no longer matter to the measure of a man. In this moment, he knew that it was time to fight, time to give up his life; even though he was terrified of dying, he knew that it was time to relinquish that fear.
Any other day he would have pushed his mother away when she fondled the stray locks of his ginger hair. But knowing that this would be her last chance his struggle was a half-hearted attempt.
He knew that his death would hit his twin the hardest. No matter how deep a mother's love or a father's pride ran; the bond between twins would always be greater. He knew that his death could very well be the death of his twin, he knew at least, that he could never imagine life without his other half; and on that point he felt a twinge of regret at having to die. Out of all his brothers, his twin would be the one most torn apart by his passing.
The only sibling whose sorrow could possibly rival his twin's, would be that of his youngest sibling: his only sister. He still had fond memories of the day his parents had brought her home from the hospital. He remembered being four and ferocious and he had puffed out his chest and strutted his stuff to the baby sister who couldn't understand. He smiled sadly at how things had soured soon after and over the envy that had plagued him the next few years of her life. He recalled hating her for stealing all his mother's love and affection even though she had really had no control over the matter. But being a twin had been bad enough when it came to a mother's love then it had seemed like all his mother could do was love the only little girl she was ever going to have. He regretted not being there to see her first steps; he regretted not being there to hear her first words; he regretted not loving the little girl who would one day capture his heart. He saw in his eye the beautiful and confidant woman she had become and he wished that he had been there to cherish the vulnerable child that she had been. Eventually she had broken past the barrier of jealousy and he had become her protector and her friend; but he still regretted all the years of her life that he had stubbornly chose to miss. What a blind fool he had been. He felt tears prick his topaz eyes as he wondered who she would share her secrets with now; the secrets that he would take to the grave with him. He wondered who she would seek when her nightmares came and whose shoulder she would cry on when she was too afraid to sleep. She and his twin would be a sad pair indeed when it came to his time to pass on.
However, he knew that if they did not find solace in each other, his baby sister would always have another someone to lean on. If he really felt like blaming someone: that boy would be the most logical choice. If that boy had never met his little brother, had never weaseled his way into the family's heart, had never been the boy that his baby sister had fallen in love with; then maybe he would not have to die. He knew, though, that had none of there events come to pass, he would have robbed his family—and himself—of some of their most precious moments. There were times, however, that he wondered whether they were worth the horrific price that accompanied them; but he had a feeling he would never discover that answer.
He would miss the boy who had captured his sister's heart and who had grown into a man worthy enough to be her life partner and her protector in his stead. He hoped that in some way he had made an impact on that man's life and would be remembered fondly by him as well. His only regret now was that he would never see his precious baby sister be given away to the man destined to replace him in her heart.
There was only one person in his life of which he was unsure how his sacrifice would affect her. He knew that his family and his friends would mourn him but he was unsure of just what he meant to her.
She had become like a second little sister to him but even though she had practically grown up in his house and in his presence he was still unsure of where he stood with her. He was unsure whether she considered him to be family, as she considered his parents and his younger siblings, much less whether she saw him as a friend.
He had met her as a tiny, shapeless, stuck-up, do-gooder with bushy hair and buck teeth but somewhere in between: schoolwork, making friends, falling in love with his younger brother, and trying to save the world, she had become something else. Now she was elegant, not so bushy-haired or buck-toothed, and she had broken her fair share of rules but she was nonetheless determined to always do the right thing. In all the years it took for her transformation to make him notice he couldn't help but wonder how he fit in.
A wry smile donned his hardened features as he wondered whether she still had her history book memorized or whether she still had a bit of a snob in her when it came to things she held closest to her heart—like school. His brother had the right idea of falling in love with her and was lucky to have his affection returned if only for a time.
Still all the knowledge he had of her rambunctious curls, softened features, and tolerance of unruliness left him with an ache to know more. His family's second daughter, surrogate little sister, and his brother's first love and he knew her as well as a man knew the secret of life.
It was ironic that he—the great adventurer—would die for the greatest mystery he would never solve. Saving her would be the first and the last heroic act of his life.
And with just one night he wondered what it would mean to her.